The Heartlines On Your Hand
by Miss Codswallop
Summary: Evangeline wanted nothing but vengeance. Jack wanted nothing more than immortality... well, except maybe rum. By chance their paths cross and soon they realize just how useful they could be to each other. Jack/OC


First fanfic here! For those who've decided to take a gander, thank ye kindly. For those who read til the end of the chapter, thank ye kindly. For those who review, alert, and or favorite, I appreciate every ounce of feedback no matter how it be. Constructive criticism is always welcome and it's a lot harder to write well-flowing pirate talk than what I previously thought.

**"The Heartlines On Your Hand"**

**Paradise**

Outside of the Black Pearl and the seven seas, Tortuga was the closest thing Jack Sparrow called home. One could always find a bit of trouble and pleasure within the rambunctious town. His compass lead him there and he would trust that something of importance was waiting for him. What that particular something was, he hadn't a clue, but he'd search without searching. The answer would likely unveil itself from the shadows when he least expected.

In the meantime, what a better thing to do than for the pirate to fetch himself a pint of rum?

Accompanied by Joshamee Gibbs, Jack entered The Morning Grog, a twenty-four hour tavern situated in the heart of Tortuga. It was a pirate's haven, filled to the brim with good ale and even better wenches. A band played familiar sea shanties on their fiddles and hornpipes whilst drunken customers danced about merrily. There was just enough tension in the air for a bar fight to break out at any given moment.

Jack smiled to himself, inhaling the scent of warm baked bread. His churning stomach only reminded him how scarce food was on the sea. Especially when you had to split it amongst a ravenous crew.

"Still peeved that I brought ye here, are we?" Jack said to Gibbs who was too busy eyeing a whore than listening. Only when Jack playfully swatted him on his chest did he snap his attention back to his captain.

"Peeved? There's nary a pirate in the Caribbean who'd turn sour at the thought 'o good rum," he said. "Though I must warn ya, the crew's morale be plummetin'. We've been at sea for far too long with little to show for our efforts. There've been talk of disbandment."

Jack wasn't worried in slightest. "Then let 'em. The one's who stay are the one's worth keeping," he said. "A crew is only as strong as its weakest pirate and I need only the bravest at heart for where the Pearl will lead us next."

"So ye do have a plan?" Gibbs blurted, a little too enthusiastically for Jack's taste. Was he losing hope? Pity. "And here I thought ye were dragging us from port to port with little thought. Where shall we be setting sail from here onward?"

Sitting at a secluded table neatly tucked in a corner away from prying ears, Jack gave an innocent shrug. "Y'see there lies the beauty. I haven't a clue."

Gibbs joined him, not bothering to withhold his frown. "You haven't a clue?"

"Not the foggiest," he replied. "But one thing I do have is luck. And with that luck paired with my unflinching ability to find adventures, Mr. Gibbs, is all I need. My compass directed me to this very island."

"You and that dreaded compass." Lip curling, he waved off Jack. "We're nothing but a flock of sitting ducks by your means."

"True enough," Jack said. "But when comes the time to ruffle yer feathers and take flight I hope ye won't hesitate."

"Of course not. But one needs a bit of... _inspiration_ to fly, Jack. Have you nothing of importance you wish to share? Nothing to fill a weary man's heart with hope?"

Finally having the opportunity to impart his desires, Jack smiled. He leaned across the table, lessening the distance between them as he spoke in the softest whisper. "I aim to find the Grail."

As if visited by God himself the old man's eyes widened. His sullen skin suddenly brightened and his dark eyebrows reached his hairline with surprise. "_The _Grail?"

Jack nodded curtly. "The holy one."

"What makes ye think there even be a Holy Grail."

"What makes ye think there isn't one?"

Gibb's face turned sour and before he had a chance to respond, a bar maiden approached.

"Anythin' I can get fer ye fine gentlemen," she said, her voice just as saccharine as her smile.

Gibbs snorted with laughter. "Ya hear that, Jack, she thinks we be gentlemen."

The woman was quick with her retort. "Gentlemen until proven scoundrels."

Jack noticed how the maiden's eyes never parted his from the moment she approached. Her tawny skin was a rich shade of brown. Her hair was a bevy of black curls. She carried herself well – shoulders back, chin held high. Though he couldn't fairly guess her age in the illy lit tavern, Jack settled that she was a pretty little thing.

It had been far too long since Jack felt the touch of a woman. "What's yer name, lass," he asked.

"Evangeline," she said. "And yer Jack Sparrow aren't ya?"

Raising his finger, he shook it before correcting her. "_Captain._"

"You have my apologies, sir, how foolish of me to forget." She folded her arms over one another, her eyes riddled with something Jack couldn't quite make out just yet. "Anything I can start ye with, Cap'n Jack?"

"Rum. For the both of us," he said. "When we're done bring us two more, and then another two, and as many as ye can until one of us has fallen into a drunken stupor so deep that we can hardly stand."

Gibbs coughed. "Ye can barely do that as is."

Jack noted how Evangeline payed no attention to Gibbs. Perhaps her concern was strictly fixated on Jack. He couldn't blame her. He _was_ infamous.

"Two chugs of rum posthaste." She left as quietly as she came.

Giving a slight nod, Gibbs nudged Jack with his elbow. "Ain't she a fine poppet?"

"She'd be e'en better without the corset on. Or any garments for that matter."

"Yer no eunuch, Jack, ye know best that a barmaid isn't any harder to tempt than a wench. A snap of yer fingers and she'd be in yer bed by night's end. After all, she gave you _the look._"

"Aye, but the night is young, Mr. Gibbs and there are even younger women. More vivacious, perhaps. Whoever comes to me, I'll make come, savvy?"

Gibbs' eyebrows furrowed, pondering over Jack's words until he soon realized the double entendre. "Have you any word on the Grail and its whereabouts?"

Jack contained his snarl. It just like Gibbs to be business first, pleasure later. The truth was Jack only had a hunch about the Holy Grail and its existence. But he'd seen many a myth proven valid in his years, so a hunch was just as good as proof. There was nothing rebuking the idea of a golden chalice overflowing with the gift of immortality so it was as good as real in Jack's eyes.

Luckily for him, he didn't have to confess (or lie) to Gibbs. Just as he was about to give his response, Evangeline had returned.

She placed their frothy pints of grog in front of them. Jack found it strange how her demeanor changed drastically from when they first spoke. She hung her head low, keeping her eyes to the ground and left without a farewell.

"Odd," Gibbs noted only confirming Jack's suspicions. "Thought she liked you."

"As does the moon wax and wane, a lady's temperament is never constant."

Gibbs lifted his pint. "Take what you can."

Jack followed. "Give nothing back."

As Jack started to down his drink his eyes caught sight of what was stuck to the bottom of the mug. He peeled away the foreign object, revealing it to be a piece of worn parchment etched with a message. The black ink was fresh and as a result bled down the parchment that'd been dampened by his drink. Gibbs payed no attention to the matter, but Jack eyed the writing as if it were a found treasure.

_Meet with me at midnight_

_Bullock's Lane, little yellow cottage_

_I'll make it worth yer while._

_~ Eva_


End file.
